The rains in Paris
by ZanNaz
Summary: Blair Bass learns she is expecting her first child while her husband, Charles, is away on business. When he comes home after months abroad how will the duo settle in to the reality of approaching parenthood. Are Chuck and Blair still who they once were?
1. Wish I'd stayed

**DISCLAIMER: **I do not own "Gossip Girl", just the specific world I choose to bring the characters into.

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**CHAPTER ONE:  
**_Wish I'd stayed_

I had turned all the lights off but my head still throbbed, a dull pain as if someone were playing the drums on the inside of my skull. My half-lidded eyes slid towards the door and I imagined what someone would say if they walked through it right now, their shocked gasps and careful whispers.

_Blair Waldorf half naked on her bedroom floor ... well I never!_

The heat of early July radiated through every wall in the penthouse and by mid-afternoon I had elected to strip down and lay on the cool surface of the hardwood. To pass the time I counted the ceiling tiles, the floor boards, my own breath.

I bit my lip, swallowing the remnants of breakfast that had crawled back up my throat. Whether it was the raw nerves, like electrical wires that stemmed from my fingertips, or the baby - at that point I didn't know.

I twisted my wedding band around my ring finger; it was fatter than it had been when the ring was first slipped onto it. Forever and always. The gold glinted dully in the shadows; the heavy curtains on the windows hidding most of the afternoon light.

There was a soft knock on the door; I turned my head, resting it on my bare elbow.

"Yes?"

"It almost time Ms. Blair" Dorota said through the oak, her heavy footsteps retreating as quickly as they came. Almost time.

A hundred and twenty days apart (give or take) and there he was, coming towards me at full speed. I got up slowly and pulled a pair of maternity pants over my waist - I detested them -hated the stretchy material that curved over my belly like another layer of flesh.

My hair hung in clumps around my shoulders, not glamorous, not even pretty. I hadn't decided whether or not my husband's arrival was of enough importance to me as I slipped on a shirt and walked into the bathroom.

Chuck had been traipsing through Europe for months with a phone call every couple of days, a few muffled "I miss you" phrases uttered through static and distance.

"_I love you baby, I miss you." _

I learned quickly that it was easier to be at school, to wander the NYU campus and stop in on Serena and Lily. The more he was gone and the further away he was from me – the easier it was to forget he was my husband, to lock away the love and tell myself that I didn't need it.

Somewhere in those months I found out about the pregnancy. I was so occupied, so full of reasons to not to think of my marriage that it was almost two months before I realized. It was a couple weeks before I saw a doctor and only two minutes to confirm my suspicions once I supplied a sample.

Things were strained between Chuck and me, like a piece of paper twisted and pulled from both sides, starting to tear. Every time he called, every second a silence formed between us, I would think of telling him. No one moment ever seemed right enough to interject.

Now, halfway through my fourth month, there was no hiding what was growing inside of me. My baby. My belly swelled outwards, as if I was six months pregnant rather than seventeen weeks and I bared the extra weight with a queasy smile. I was always sick enough to throw up, and tired enough to drift off to sleep during a meal.

It was almost exactly how I imagined being old would feel.

I decided against the shower, casting a dejected glance at the mirror as I brushed my teeth. The minty taste scrubbing away the stale eggs and toast that lingered on my taste buds. As Blair Waldorf I knew myself but as Blair Bass I was a blank slate of emotion, caught between the past and the present and all the memories that compressed themselves in the air.

I tried to concentrate on where Chuck might be, on the tarmac at JFK or maybe already outside of the building. I couldn't feel him anymore or know where he was, my senses had dulled to a fine powder.

I ran a brush through my hair, working all the knots out with nimble hands. Dorota walked into the bedroom just as I stepped into a dress, pulling it up my thighs as she held out a glass of water and two vitamins.

"Zip this up would you?" I gestured for her to come closer as I balled my hair up into my fist away from the nape of my neck. The glass clinked as she set it on the bedside table, the pre-natal vitamins carefully stacked next to it. The silver zipper slid to the top of my spine and rested there, a cold piece of metal against my pale skin.

Dorota waited patiently as I stared at my profile in the closet mirror, the dress I had chosen billowing over my body like gentle waves. I didn't need to tell him, my appearance would speak for itself like a picture - worth a thousand words at first glance. She held out the glass for me and I rolled my eyes like a child, swallowing the dry vitamins in one swift gulp, chased with cool water.

I fell into the couch cushions in the living-room, soon Serena would arrive, the cater waiters and the decorations. The penthouse would be braided in lights, tables covered in champagne glasses and swarming with friends. Chuck's "Surprise welcome home" party, and all I could think was that maybe he wouldn't be happy to be here, so unwelcome after all ...

_I was in the middle of a garden on my knees in front of a small hole, a rusty shovel in my hands. The sun beat down on my back with the weight of early summer as I worked. I had been having this dream so often lately that I knew exactly what would happen next as I continued slicing at the damp soil with quick movements. It was a few minutes before I felt the panic, dropping the garden tool to the ground and clawing at the earth with my bare hands. I didn't know what I was looking for or hoping to uncover but I always came up empty handed. Sunburned and exhausted, I stood, looking at the garden that had transformed into a field of sunflowers reaching their giant petals towards the sun in thirst._

Someone was carefully shaking me, willing me out of the dream with solid hands placed squarely on my shoulders. I opened my eyes slowly to Serena, her face bent over my own.

"Blair?"

I grumbled, the throbbing headache was back. I struggled to prop myself on the pillows and realized that I wasn't in my bedroom, I was in the living room. I wedged my hand under myself and used all my might to shift into a comfortable sitting position, Serena stepped back and quickly retreated from the room. I turned to call after her - wondering why she had woken me up if she wasn't going to speak to me. Someone had placed a blanket over me earlier, it slid to the floor in a heap.

"Blair?" My breath hitched in my throat.

As the thick veil of sleep drifted away from me I came back into reality, wishing only to halt time at the exact moment that I started to recognize who was in front of me. For a split second I could see us just as Serena and Dorota were, huddled together and arching to hear what was happening. I reached instinctively to pull at my hair which I couldn't remember gathering into a bun. My cheeks flamed.

Chuck didn't say anything, he was waiting, his slender body straight against the cushions on the opposite couch.

Waiting for what? My hand fell to the crest of my stomach as I lifted my eyes to his own.

It was like breathing life into a faded memory, placing it's features back where they belonged. The curved mouth I still saw whenever I closed my eyes, the dark eyes that always searched for more.

"Charles ..." I started to pick at my wedding band, dropping my eyes to stare at it with feigned interest before realizing exactly what I was doing.

"I must have fallen asleep" I said with a yawn, "I apologize."

"Blair," He kept saying my name as if he were testing it against the air around us, sinking it into the atmosphere. I wanted him to stop looking at me like he was.

"What?" It came out with an edge I hadn't intended, what did he want from me?

"You're pregnant?"

I looked at my feet avoiding the obvious answer, prolonging the awkward pause that kept itself between us. The barrier that had grown steadily since we had said "I do." He pushed a hand through his hair, looking tired and confused. He wanted me to say something, to make this easier, to lead him to an understanding. I wasn't going to.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I squinted,_ why?_

"There was never a right time"I breathed, adding after a minute, "what does it matter anyway?"

"I would have come back, I wouldn't have stayed away for the past four months," he said. His voice rose with the next words, "You don't have to do everything by yourself Blair."

"You were gone - I was here - it never occurred to me that I was doing anything by myself."

He stood quickly, rushing over to me in two long strides, kneeling at my feet. I didn't know to do or how to react, he was usually more careful about physical intimacy in front of others. Signs of vulnerability. Didn't he know that Serena was watching?

"I don't want to fight" he said against my thigh, "can I just be with my wife? I'm pretty sure she was here when I left, have you seen her?" He looked up at me as he said the last few words. I smiled - cupping his head in my hands - "Maybe."

"Waldorf" he smirked, raising to his feet and pressing his lips against my own. I breathed in his scent - stale cologne and the company jet mixed with a faint drop of scotch. I couldn't feel anything but his lips and the hum of excitement in the pit of my stomach that had managed to erase all my doubts as if we had just parted hours earlier instead of months.

**XOXOXO**

The guests would arrive soon, busting through the door and into our lives but neither of us cared. I was pliable under his gaze, it was like the sun had come out after a dreary winter and warmed me from my feet to the tips of my hair. In the back of my mind I hated him for it, the ease in which he slipped back into my heart as if he had never left. Chuck was used to this, the talent he had for dissolving all the bad parts with a smile.

We were on the bedspread, nose to nose, his hand cupping my stomach lovingly. I had just finished showing him the latest ultrasound which sat on the pillow in between us.

"I love you," he said. My heart beat fast, a rhythmic stream of anxiety at the words. I didn't question it, my reactions had been slightly off kilter since the pregnancy.

"I'm going to take time off - give the board a chance to hold the reins for a while." I released a breath as though this was what I had been waiting for, the cementing of our marriage, the hand outstretched to bridge the gap.

But instead I replied with, "why?" I wanted to bury my head in the blankets and stuff gauze in my mouth to keep from being an idiot. Since we had said good-bye I never gave much thought to what I wanted, the next step in a series of stairs, I had simply allowed the blanks to fill themselves with something. Just about every cell in my body was telling me to take this, to make the move on the gigantic chess board and yet I was hesitant.

Chuck moved his hand off my belly and propped himself on his elbow, wincing as though he was afraid I was going to disappear if he didn't hold me. He gazed down at me, my hair around my head in a halo of brunette curls, the pattern on my dress that hugged the body carrying his child.

_"Having my baby,  
What a lovely way of saying how much you love me,  
Having my baby,  
What a lovely way of saying what you're thinking of me"_

I groaned quietly at him as he continued singing off key. If he needed to get it out of his system I would let it happen now - under the agreement that he would never utter Paul Anka in our bed again.

_"I can see it, your face is glowing,  
I can see it, in your eyes I'm happy you know it ..."_

He was being so sincere and beautiful, a curve of hair fell onto his forehead as he serenaded me but I couldn't take it any longer. I pushed at his shoulder and the great Chuck Bass fell backwards with a thud, I let out a laugh.

He rolled onto my chest and I could feel his breath against my collarbone, breathing me in. They were long quiet gulps of air against my clothing as if I were merely the scent of a woman he loved.

I didn't know if this was the beginning of one thing and the end of another. I imagined myself on the shore, picking up the pieces and putting them into a box, rebuilding. I combed my fingers through his hair, he hadn't changed out of his suit or the paisley shirt that was now crumpled and stained.

"We're going to be a family" he said after a while "Blair, we're going to be parents."

He looked up at me softly, "I'm going to be a father."

And baby makes three.

**XOXOXO**

I sipped at my sparkling apple-juice, stealing glances at the front door as an Elton John song sailed through the penthouse. Serena was mouthing the words, her arm looped through my elbow, swaying along to the piano solo.

We hadn't said anything about Chuck, but I could see from the way she watched me that it was only a matter of time before I was pulled into a corner and forced to talk. My gaze skirted the room, everyone from NYU, the breakfast club, and the odd acquaintance had managed to fit into my house. Each guest had their own flute of genuine champagne and silver plate of appetizers as they laughed the night away.

I focused merely on making sure the sandwich I ate earlier remained exactly what it had become - digested.

Chuck had disappeared earlier to take a shower, emerging fresh faced from the bedroom with a bow-tie I didn't recognize glinting under the lights. The banner Erik and his new boyfriend had spent the afternoon making was secured to the ceiling in the middle of the room.

"Welcome home Chuck, congrats on the baby Bass!"

Everyone but me thought it was a sweet gesture. I wondered what he was thinking as he took it in, standing under it momentarily before making his way over to us.

Chuck's hand fell to the small of my back and Serena broke into a wide toothy grin. She slapped him on the shoulder, "Hey brother!"

"Hi sis," he gestured at the room, "I suppose you're the one to thank for all this?"

"Erik and Weston did most of the work, but Blair and I made the arrangements."

She lied for me. I had known about this for the past month and made absoloutley no effort to be included. I opened my mouth to say something and closed it.

Erik made his way over with two glasses of scotch, handing one of to Chuck in a half-embrace.

"Welcome home."

Chuck smirked, swirling the liquid around in its glass, "Thanks Erik."

"No problem, how was Paris?"

"Rainy," they both laughed at this and I scowled, nudging Serena in the ribs. It was time to find other entertainment, I didn't need to hear about my husband's European adventures - nor was I keen to.

"Blair," I looked from Serena to Erik who smiled widely at me, took a swig of alcohol and placed a hand to my belly, "how's the ballerina today?" Chuck's eyes watched me. I controlled my blush this time, falling into the familiarity of his attention with a quick smile.

"Jumpy" I replied, she had been kicking like crazy all night. It was the exhilaration of a party that kept her squirming, like popcorn kernels hitting the inside of my stomach with determination.

"Kicking?" Erik clarified, taking a longer sip of his drink. I could see my husband's face fall from the corner of my eye, it hadn't occurred to me to share in these moments with him just yet. I blinked and in a moment he had regained composure.

I nodded, pushing my hair away from my face and tucking it behind my ears.

"It's a girl?" Chuck asked, sipping at his own scotch and beginning to take on a brooding look. There were so many days he had missed out on, things I had wished I could capture in a jar and keep under my pillow that would never be fully explained through words. He was coming in on a story already a quarter of the way through. There was no one to blame really, did I regret the whole chain or just the individual actions?

_If he had never left ... _

_If I _had_ told him on the phone ..._

None of it mattered. I could regret nothing, take nothing back, there was no where to go but forward.

Serena sensed the awkward pause and interjected, a little tipsy off the champagne, "B is _absolutely _convinced it's going to be a girl aren't you Blair?"

I wasn't convinced, I just knew. It was hard to explain to someone who hadn't been pregnant.

Erik patted Chuck on the shoulder, "I helped paint the nursery which I'm sure you'll be repainting several more times before the baby comes."

I winced. If either of them had been slightly less inebriated I hoped they would have been able to pick up on the way Chuck's mouth curved into an unfinished comma. I hadn't told him about the nursery yet ... but what a great way to let him know.

I sighed. Enveloping myself in _Chuck and Blair_ was like translating a foreign language. Our love was a tricky game of slanted intention that left gaps and asked more questions than I had yet to know the answers to.

**XOXOXO**

I spoke idly to the guests that had made their way to the party, plastering on a feigned smile with every person that asked, _"So, where is the man of the hour?" _

I couldn't blame him, the small part inside of me that grew because of him forced me to understand how he was feeling. I was just urging him further down the path without so much as a map or the proper information on a way to figure it all out.

I stood in the hallway, trying to justify myself with the shock of it all - even though it really wasn't unexpected - I had known from the moment that he left when he would set foot in the doorway again. It was no surprise visit and nothing had ever been as organized and straight forward to me than his travel arrangements.

Home. Not home.

It was true that I had survived without Chuck, but it made all the difference in the world that he hadn't been there. It stung me to remember that he had left in the first place - the face of Bass Industries - which to him seemed more important than the honeymoon or his new wife.

I knew where he was, even if I couldn't feel him like I used to and I found my way to the nursery with quiet footsteps. I traced the doorframe with my fingers, I had converted one of the guestrooms off the master bedroom days after I came home from the doctor's office.

Chuck was looking out the window, sitting in the rocking chair that Eleanor had shipped over from Paris, the same one she used to rock me to sleep with.

"How many times have you painted?" He was lost in his own world, wondering, his cheek against the corner of the headrest as far away from me as he could situate himself.

I looked at the walls, the gentle green colour that reflected in my eyes and I took a step into the room.

"Four times," I said after a minute of silence, "first it was yellow, red, light brown and now this ..."

"Green?" He turned to me, his face partially hidden by the shadows of night.

I thought about it, biting the inside of my lip. It had felt right for the three weeks it had been this colour but I felt the approval slipping through my fingers like water as I walked along it, closer to where Chuck sat.

"I know, I think it needs to be re-painted," I said truthfully. I was in front of him now with my hand on the windowpane, watching the pedestrians below us as they walked up the street.

"Blair," he grabbed at my hand and turned me towards him as he edged his body off of the rocker, "I'm not going anywhere. I need you to know that .."

Did I know it really, was it what I needed to keep me at bay, to stop the same dream from running around in my head. Was I the sunflower begging for his attention, was he the thirst I craved? I jumped as the baby kicked, with an expert motion I flattened his palm on the crest of my belly.

Pop. pop.

He watched his hand in awe as if he wasn't certain that he could truly feel what he was feeling. I smiled, the flame inside of me burning brighter as he took me into his arms. We could re-build, forge truth out of the ashes and become something more than we had been, couldn't we?

"Forever and always," Chuck muttered into my ear. I was overcome with an unsteady happiness, which worked to assure me that the Parisian rain hadn't washed away our love after all.

Why did my instincts tell me otherwise?

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**TBC**


	2. Quietest voice

A/N: The name of the chapter comes from a line in a Bloc Party song (:

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**CHAPTER TWO:  
**_In your quietest voice_

I bit into the whole-wheat scone in my hand; gradually breaking it down with my teeth, paying more attention to the sugary flavour of blueberries on my tongue than the newspaper that lay in my lap for the past half-hour. My eyes sat on a sentence I had been trying to register for the last ten minutes.

It didn't seem to be working, to say the least.

Chuck had been back in New York for two days but it felt like weeks. I had quickly learnt all the ways that hollow silence and lost moments could line the hours and slow time to a dull drone.

I started leaning into the table, exhausted from yet another sleepless night, almost too tired to catch my own faux paus, straightening into the back of the chair with a frown.

Last night had been ten hours of pure discomfort. I woke in the early hours of the morning to find Chuck's arms wrapped around my hips and the rest of the night had been spent tossing and turning.

Of course he had slept through it all, unwilling even in slumber to let go of me. I had been sick with irony, as I tried for the tenth time to pry his arms off my skin, because he was always the one leaving and not me.

I knew I shouldn't have felt like I did. The father of my child, the man I loved, had come home. In any event, if I were meant to try – to know what to do – I was entirely at a loss.

We were young, I reminded myself, just growing aware of ourselves. Soon we would be ultimately responsible for someone else. It was an adjustment; I knew this all well enough.

If he was scared like I was, the kind of apprehension that kept me up every few days, he didn't show it. Traded in for a casual smile and a backhand touch, his insecurities watered down.

For the first time in my life at only twenty-two, I had no idea what came next. The plan – the one I'd used to get me this far – had disintegrated when I got married – I had forgotten that it only applied to Blair Waldorf and not _Blair Bass_. Without it, I was building shabby ideas as I went along. There was hardly enough time to test the ground or weigh the options.

It made me nervous to not have a plan, to be plan-less. Waldorf's made a plan, it's just what we did, how we got into law school and threw the best parties. Sure, it was natural, the intelligence and the social status, but_ nothing was ever as good as it could have been without an idea of what you wanted _my mother always said. _Know what you want._

All I knew was that I wanted simplicity and by what definition I hardly knew.

Chuck glanced up from his folders, papers spilling onto the table, and ran a hand through his hair. It was soft and shiny, carefully dishevelled.

The man I loved.

We locked eyes, a quiet communication nipping at my flesh – if only I could decipher the meaning.

"What?" My voice was sharp, every muscle in my body tense.

He said nothing, that stupid smirk spreading across his face

He had been watching me for days just as he did now. It made me feel like a bird fluttering against its cage, completely aware of the blue sky that expanded above and yet unable to fly.

Since he had come home I had found any excuse to stay out of the house. I had gone to my classes and then wandered the streets, met up with Serena and finally relented on going back to the penthouse only when I was hungry and utterly sick of pastries and soda.

Chuck had waited patiently, on the cusp of worry, standing to pull me into his arms, kiss me goodnight.

It was always brief, so brief.

After months of living without him there was a shift that came with settling back into our life. Dorota had substantial time off now, coming and going as she pleased. Chuck was the one to hand me my pre-natal vitamins at regular intervals, insist on breakfast, and ask me how I felt every five minutes.

And today it made want to throw something at him, anything. I eyed the fork on my plate and thought of flinging it in his direction. The constant attention made it difficult to concentrate.

"Chuck I swear, if you don't stop right now I'll - I'll - divorce you! Or at least throw something!"

I huffed and I puffed and I could have blown the whole house down if I let all the aggravation in my veins into a single breath.

"Blair," He cautioned, "relax. It's not good for the baby. Besides," He traced the top of his water glass with a pinkie finger, "an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind."

I swallowed hard, my cheeks red in anger. My husband had just tried to _dispense wisdom_ …

He piled the folders into his briefcase, closed it and stood up, heaving it into his palm. Judging rather wisely, by the look on my face, that he would have no luck in extracting any kiss from my lips, he glanced once in my direction and turned towards the door.

It was 9AM on a Tuesday, which meant only one thing - off to the office. My first lecture didn't begin until noon which left enough time to get ready, have the expected bout of morning sickness and head off to art history.

A small swig of mouthwash and a dab or two of coco chanel on my collar would perk me right up.

I would have been excited were it not for the way he dismissed me. My emotions regarded as the hormonal switch in my body and for that I was ready to breathe fire. Burn his arrogance to a crisp with a damned good throw.

But instead, I put down the fork, threw my napkin on the table and waddled to the front door. Much I imagined, like an angry duck would do if provoked, or some type of animal that waddled.

A brief wrinkle of surprise swept over the Basstard's face and then hid beneath his composure, tucked safely away. Maybe, I reasoned to myself, it was the fact that I - a woman almost five months pregnant - had beat a twenty-two year old man to the door not two meters away from where we had been eating.

Otherwise, it may have been how flushed I was from the effort it took.

I rested my hands on my hips, jut my elbows out in defiance and narrowed my eyes. Prepared to fight.

"What is with you?!" I yelled. He stepped forward, prepared to lure me out of the way, much like a snake charming his prey. I stood my ground.

"I have no idea," He said, with nonchalance, "but you're going to tell me?" His words were smooth and sticky. Like honey he could trap you in them and you would spend the rest of your life trying to escape.

I didn't know what to say, not knowing if it was a classic Bass defence or a form of sincerity in increments. Pressing my back to the door I turned my chin up at him, spinning on my heel, "Bite me Basshole."

It was simple, direct and everything I needed to say.

**XOXOXO**

I stumbled clumsily toward the bedroom, my upper-lip curled in disgust at the tears that trailed down my cheeks. I knew not why I had suddenly gotten so emotional but, then again, I had been this way for a while now.

The pregnancy had made me an open book for anyone to read. No secret password or handshake required as of late.

I hated it. I didn't want Chuck of all people to be able to read me so easily.

Our marriage was disjointed, and the idea of everything falling to pieces was more real to me than it had been the day he had left for France.

To have him – flesh and bone – in front of me, was more complex in existence than the hours I had spent in recent months lying in bed and imagining the plains of his face. Every touch was alive with meaning.

I rolled onto the bedspread, careful of the expanding belly that stuck out a little above my hips and curled over, like a soft wave. I didn't move when I felt Chuck in the room, resisting the urge to sneak a glance at his perch just inside the door.

There was nothing but my discordant sobs falling between us with sharp edges and little direction.

After a while I ran out of tears to cry and silence filled the gaps. I was raw and my eyes were red and puffy but I tried only to absorb my thoughts in the pattern of the bedspread that I had started to trail with my finger.

Chuck crawled up to me slowly, moulding his body to my own. One whole. Only it didn't really feel that way anymore.

"Mrs Bass," I grinned despite myself. Whenever I was upset he used it to remind me that our marriage was the center of his world -I was the only thing that mattered.

The day we were joined in marriage, the first time I heard those words fall from his lips I melted into a heap. Everything clicked into place; I knew then that I hadn't made a mistake. Two simple words that held thousands of _"I love you's"_.

Marriage had been a big step, probably more like a leap, but we had done it. Knowing Bass I couldn't deny that I was worried he might leave me at the alter; suddenly decide that he couldn't devote himself to anyone – something he had believed since childhood. But, he had been there after all, and nothing else mattered.

He had made the promise that he would always be there to keep his promises. Because of this, I never took it for granted whenever it was said.

The seventieth time he had whispered, "Mrs Bass" into my ear on our wedding night, as we made love to each other under the stars, it only grew sweeter. He had confessed to me that nothing felt as destined as the moment he slipped the wedding band on my finger.

"Are you alright?" He said it into my hair, a soft whisper that drifted around us.

I opened my mouth to say something but instead I nodded against the pillow. Chuck pulled a clump of hair away from my neck, pressing his lips to the flesh between my shoulder blades. His touch was cold; the summer heat had left me sweaty, even in my best silk dress.

It was easier to fall into the cracks, to dive into the darkness with his touch.

"What –"

"Please," He begged, sorrow tipping the ends of his mouth, "Let's not talk about it right now."

I saw us then as I knew we were, dangling off the edge of a cliff, wondering whether or not we should keep climbing or descend towards the ground into the arms of safety. But to me he was the arms of safety, the need for love and we kept on climbing.

I thought of what the next step would be, about the future and where "we" were headed.

Was there even anywhere to go?

"Are we cut out for this Chuck, do you think we'll make it?"

There were so many unaccounted days that stretched through our relationship. Hours we couldn't get back.

It wasn't easy to pick up and start all over again but we would have to do it.

He breathed into my shoulder, his palm flat against my collarbone. My skin prickled gooseflesh where his breath mingled with my body. The vulnerability hung above our heads, a change in direction, a wind that pushed us towards each other.

"Everything is going so fast," I continued, brushing away the tracks of dried tears.

I thought of the baby, school and our marriage. In little over a year I'd become a sophomore at NYU, a wife, and in a matter of months I'd be someone's mother. I wanted him to know that it mattered to me, that it felt just as fast as it was.

"What do you mean?" His voice was low, his eyebrows furrowed. Chuck had said it mostly to himself but I answered anyway, afraid to leave it without explanation.

"I don't know –"Was all that came out of my mouth, like some kind of blabbering idiot, who should have kept her mouth shut.

He sat up quickly, his weight shifted to the corner of the bed, bending to put his head in his hands. Exhaling long and slow he rubbed at his face, hiding from view. There was always something to hide, empty columns of nothing, protected just for protections sake.

I struggled in pulling myself up, resting against the headboard. He glanced sideways at my silhouette as I folded my hands over my stomach and looked, trying to appear content and patient, at the ceiling.

If I couldn't be honest with my husband, completely and totally truthful, then who could I be honest with? And if that wasn't how a normal marriage worked I didn't care – it's how I wanted mine to be.

Eleanor had been exceptional as a designer, she had her moments as a parent, but in terms of her marriage to daddy, well - it hadn't exactly been based on a grain of truth. I never wanted to be in that situation, I had vowed I wouldn't.

I wasn't even sure that I was still the same Blair he had left in New York one April day. I had learned to make sense of things that held little explanation, finding strength in myself where I least expected it.

"I know you're hurt," The silence broke with his hoarse, scratched whispers, "and that it's my fault. I don't pretend to be perfect; I hardly know anything really. There are only a few things you can really _tell_ that I know," He was still bent into his lap, talking through his hands.

"Number one – the biggest most important thing – is that I love you. Blair Cornelia Waldorf-Bass, Bass-Waldorf, just Bass, it doesn't matter. I've loved you for a long time and I'm going to keep loving you and needing you. To be your husband is the best thing that's happened to me in a long time."

His words were fast, tumbling out. I reached for his shoulder and he turned towards me, taking my hand and leaning into me, pressing his head on my chest.

The Bass that everyone knew was a far cry from the man I saw now, the man I needed. Soft and full of truth, the part I had given myself to without even blinking

He looked up at me and our eyes met, "I love you so much, and if you're asking me whether or not I think that we're moving too fast, the answer is no. None of this feels rushed, it just feels right."

I sighed, one hand threaded through his and the other resting on his clean-shaven cheek. Could I forgive him, just forget? No, I couldn't ask myself to do that. Maybe it was just something I'd have to live with, my anger otherwise would simply go to waste, ruin the moments we could have together if I just let it go.

Everything about Chuck was so strong. Like a tidal wave he ebbed closer to my mouth, a hairsbreadth away, and then his lips were on mine, a gentle request, and every doubt was washed away in one swift motion, carried out to sea.

"I love you too" I confessed into his parted lips, my eyes closed as his tongue mingled with my own. I had almost forgotten how he tasted. His hand ran through my hair, down my chest and onto the crest of my belly.

"We can do this Mrs Bass, we already are."

* * *

**TBC**


	3. Modern love

A/N: Hey there (: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed me so far. Those of you that also read the 'the best deceptions', I should have chapter 16 up soon! Please review if you can and enjoy.

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**CHAPTER THREE:  
**_Modern love_

My professors' monotone grumbles rung in my ear, swirling around the lecture hall and sitting idly on the chalkboard. For three hours I had nothing else, empty of everything but the odd elbow nudge of my unborn child and the rhythm of pressed keys as my peers typed up their notes. I was irritated as I pushed through the crowds in the student center, scrambling to get outside.

I wanted to scream or at least garbage my cell phone and disappear for a couple of days. Anything to lighten the constant bombardment of Chuck because he was in every thought, every movement, I didn't know what to make of it.

I stood on the sidewalk, people gliding past me, staring openly. I turned my palms to the sky, my lips moving silently. I prayed for rain, the heat pressing against my skin, a stale breeze limp in the air. Eventually I started to walk, no where in particular. I just wanted to get moving, keep the humidity from sticking to my clothes.

It felt as though all I could give any thought to was Chuck. Our dynamic. It wasn't typical of me to be so wrapped up in him, so consumed by our relationship that I had a hard time focusing. And yet here I was, pacing back and forth on the same thoughts, treading frayed concentration with lead steps.

Our conversations were silent, feigned interest pulled towards wordless moments. His syllables were so gentle and yet brash and complicated.

To trust him again, to love him like I had, I needed time. I had told him it wouldn't be easy, that he would need to fight, really show me.

Three words, eight letters wasn't enough. It couldn't be. This time there need to be just that. Time.

Chuck didn't seem to understand that. He had been calling me all morning every thirty minutes and I was ready to throw my cell phone into the Hudson. We simply were, as most things in my life had been, the simple acts of love ground into separate meanings.

He and I had never been calculated nor did we begin at a certain point. I didn't know how to define us anymore. Our relationship had been lost to the couple we had been, not the two people we were, struggling to reconnect our lives. Or at least he was.

I spent my time doing schoolwork, being with my friends and eating. I was less concerned with what he wanted. I wanted us, no – I needed us to grow up.

My thought was interrupted by the discordant ring of my cell phone. I didn't bother to look, pulling my hair into a ponytail as I walked into my favourite coffee shop. The August air was flush against the cotton of my dress. He would have to wait.

**XOXOXOXO**

I eyed the receptionist as I waddled into the lobby. She was blonde and skinny. I could hardly remember being that thin. She smiled at me, flashing rows of pearly white teeth. I hated her already.

"Hello, how may I help you?"

I stopped when she spoke to me. I hadn't been to his office in so long that I didn't even know which hall lead to it. I turned slowly when I realized I would need her to point me in the right direction.

"Could you tell me where Mr. Bass' office is?" I tried to keep the agitation out of my words as I spoke them, pulling a smile across my lips.

"Do you have an appointment?" She asked, her eyes sliding up my frame.

"No," I bit out, "You must be new."

"Exc-"

"I'm his _wife_." My words were sharp edged as I flashed my wedding ring. The smile disappeared.

An expression of understanding spread over her face. Without another word the blonde picked up the phone, dialled his number and in hushed tones, told him that I was waiting. She placed the phone in it's cradle and stepped out from behind the desk. "Can I get you anything Mrs. Bass, a water perhaps?" I heard the resentment in the last words but chose to ignore it. I may have had cankles and frizzy hair but I wasn't about to be petty.

Instead, I shook my head and sat in one of the chairs lining the walls, or rather, my ankles were about to give out on me and I clumsily fell into the nearest comfortable corner. I kept my composure, counting my breaths. Suddenly there was loud, heavy breathing, not my own delicate presence and I quirked open an eyelash. Chuck stood over me, his brow creased.

"Blair," His voice bordered on hysteria, "You haven't answered any of my calls. Is everything alright, are you okay?!"

I blinked, looking up at his frame, gesturing for him to help me when I accepted that there was no way I'd be able to make it to my feet on my own. I slid out of his grasp quickly, rushing down the hall, my curls falling behind my shoulder blades. I relied completely on rounded memories as I walked into the last office on the left, the same place and a different Blair. I eyed the furniture, the photographs, familiarity nipping at me.

He grabbed my arm, twirling me around. "What's wrong?" I tried not to focus on the smooth plateaus of his voice they hardly matched his expressions. It's the only way I knew him, understood that I couldn't trust what he said.

"I threw my cell phone into the Hudson," I blurted, wriggling free of his hold. I walked towards the chair, my feet aching, and sat down with abandon. It didn't matter if I was clumsy and heavy, I just wanted to stop for a minute.

He watched me. "I'll buy you a new one."

I rolled my eyes. That was always Chuck's solution. If something wasn't working, if he couldn't narrow it down, he would simply replace it. I wondered briefly if he would do the same to our marriage, divorce flashed across my thoughts. It wasn't a new idea but I still cringed slightly. If there was any of Bart in his veins, and there was enough, I had a feeling he could.

"You can't just get me a new one Chuck," I countered, "The old one was perfectly fine."

There was silence, he ran a hand through his hair and moved towards me with a dramatic sigh. I sympathized, but only a little, I hadn't been able to make up my mind, to understand what I wanted and now I knew, as much as I could when he was around.

"You know what your problem is?"

"I'm an idiot?" He guessed. I hardly heard it and continued, "You never re-build. It's all about demolishing and starting somewhere else with you."

"I'm sensing this isn't about the phone," He edged.

I frowned, feeling silly. "It's about you – us" I made an airy gesture with my hands. "I loved you, we loved each other and then we separated and you left. I moved on with my life and now you're here and I didn't expect you to come back, I didn't think I'd be sharing this with you."

For the first time since he'd been home, I wasn't pretending like nothing had happened. I was being honest and upfront. It was the truth, standing on it's own. I rested my hands on the crest of my belly. "But you're here now and you're familiar and I love you, despite my best efforts not to. You were just my husband, this idea, and now you won't leave me alone. I have, I have this life and you're in it. I'm not trying to push you out and I'm not saying I'll never forgive you, I'm saying, I need time and space. I want to go to school and be normal and have my life and my friends and my homework and then I need to come home to you and figure out where it is that you fit in, in all of this, at some point."

I exhaled roughly, my throat dry.

Chuck peered at me, his dark eyes clouded. I had said all I needed to say.

It was a long moment before he responded. "I know that what I did, it was … unforgivable." He was standing in front of me now, close enough for me to smell his cologne. "We'll get through this," He mumbled, almost as if he were talking to himself, "I know we will."

I smiled weakly, trying to reassure him that I was holding onto those words just as tightly as he was . "I'm sorry," He said it softly, "that I've put you through this."

"We'll talk about it when it's time," I heard myself say. I managed to push myself out of the chair, less than gracefully, allowing him to wrap me up in his arms as best he could with a growing belly between us. I knew then that I had a choice and I had decided to try and make it work between us. I knew little of our relationship for certain except that nothing but my unborn child could replace Chuck Bass in my life.


	4. Galaxy of ours

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed (: and please keep reviewing it gets me all hyper and quick to write new chapters ... sososo review please! **This chapter is rated M for maturity.****

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**

**CHAPTER FOUR:**_  
Galaxy of ours_

When I'm with you, I am calm  
A pearl in your oyster  
Head on my chest, a silent smile  
A private kind of happiness  
You see, giant proclamations  
are all very well but our love  
is louder than words  
-- Bloc party

The day, although barely noon, proceeded in an idle rhythm as I tried in vain to ignore the barrage of pregnant woman. They mulled about, clutching their stomachs, grumbling in their husband's ears, rough words that fell through occupied thoughts. I cringed inwardly.

Humidity pressed against the ceiling, filling every corner of the small waiting room and I was dizzy with the heat, confused by my own gestures. Out of habit perhaps, a movement of intimacy, I grabbed Chucks' hand, winding his fingers in mine with crushing strength. He elicited no eye roll, eager for everything that was our relationship, even if it came at the expense of a few fractured fingers.

How I envied him, the ability to forget when I was still merely digesting.

I felt him watch me, twinges of sweetness in the corners of his mouth, a smirk forming across his lips that crashed to the floor between us. I hated him. It was the same expression, the mysterious air that had drawn me into his bed, between the sheets on so many separate occasions, that had caused me to fumble with my heart, give it away without regret. I narrowed my eyes and returned to feigning interest in a severely outdated issue of Cosmopolitan.

Eventually, sometime in the latter half of the hour, we were led down the hall and into a vacant room. Chuck lagged at the door and I stepped forward, letting him go, closing the door behind me. I craved the privacy, shedding my purse and tying my hair in a ponytail, propping myself onto the exam table, my heart racing.

There was a gentle echo as the door opened and closed in the distance, footsteps nearing. I focused on my breathing - in out in out. When I blinked, the landscape that came into focus was strikingly different. It wasn't like every other time I had been in this office, on this very exam table, anxiety and excitement running through me. Chuck was here and he stood out, the young and dashing executive who quickly fell at my side, clutching my hand in his. It was almost as though the loss of contact, however brief, had been painful.

He was the foreign object in so many lost moments and I wondered vaguely if he knew it, understood it as blatant as it was.

I resisted sneering at my doctor, who had conveniently taken his costly time in getting to me. Instead, I gripped my husband, tipping up my chin with a polite smile.

"Mrs. Bass," Dotor Yeli said, brow furrowed as he read over my chart, "How are we feeling today dear?"

"Tired and _very _pregnant," I admitted. The freezing goo was splattered across my stomach and I grimaced, feeling Chuck lurch forward slightly. I still didn't know why it had to be so cold.

The old man chuckled, low and soft, turning towards us. The young couple that we appeared to be, hands clasped, breath held, eager for the sight of our child. If only he knew, I thought, that this may be the only thing holding us together.

"Yes," He nodded, "That is quite typical of pregnancy." It was a joke meant to cool the tension, said as if this man, possibly of sixty, knew anything other than what he had read and observed of pregnant woman. "Let's take a look shall we?"

Minutes passed, stretched and thin, the standard questions repeated. I answered thoroughly, with an air of impatience, almost automatically.

The grey blocks built themselves up on the monitor. "Ah," He exclaimed, "Beautiful and healthy, sucking it's thumb."

The heartbeat was fast and steady, everything else melting away. The most important glorious symphony Eleanor ever entertained me with couldn't have surmount to one tenth of the magic that was that sound, peaceful. She was the sun, the moon, the stars ... my galaxy shrunk down in black and white and so much more defined than the last time I laid eyes on her.

Chuck cleared his throat, rubbing his fingers across my knuckles. I was swirling with him, lost in this magnificence. There was happiness so pure and clear that I wanted to grab it, hold it as long as I could.

"Is she ... he ... alright?" Chuck's voice was barely above a whisper, fractured.

"Perfection," Doctor Yeli assured him. I knew then that our baby had become Chucks' entire world, suddenly so small and yet so gloriously significant. Our own.

The doctor moved the wand across my belly. "Would you like to know the sex?"

Chuck turned to me, evaluating the emotions, testing the air with his response. I shrugged, riveted by the images that flittered across the screen, nothing else mattered. I was glad I had let him come, shared with him as much as I could, sorrow pressing against me that I had been so reluctant to allow him space in our lives for so long. And it was more to me than I had thought it would be, to have him there, next to me, holding each other together with our hands.

"I think we'll wait," He sighed, running a hand through my curls. I tried to maintain the calm that seemed to drift away from excitement, separating. We were allowing each other this, the synchrony of marriage, the joy of each other.

In the glow of the sonogram I felt the hope of our love sprout in my belly and spread across my skin while our universe stared back at us, sucking her thumb.

**XOXOXO**

I woke with the incessant need to clean, scrub and scour the floors and I grumbled, rolling into a sitting position. Elongated shadows danced across the hardwood floor as I pulled my hair away from the nape of my neck. I prayed for the heat of summer to dim and for the brilliance of Autumn in New York to arrive. The baby stirred, she must have been sleeping too. I pressed my palm to where she lay, over the taunt skin of my belly, "I love you baby."

The mornings, with the dew of early August sunrises lancing the bay windows, were all my own.

Silence dusted the edges of the furniture and I glanced at Chuck, he blinked at me, observing my movements. I turned as much as I could manage; hand on my hip, "I'm just going to go ... do something." I could hardly admit that I wanted nothing more than to vacuum. It was absurd enough as it was.

"Can't sleep?" I guessed, unfurling my arms, the baby stretched with me. A yawn escaped my lips.

He nodded.

"Getting ready to clean?" He chuckled.

My expression betrayed me, mouth forming a perfect circle both appalled and eager to know how he'd found out.

When I said nothing, he added: "Dorota said something about the cleaning supplies be all moved around and the kitchen floor looking cleaner than usual for the last couple of weeks." I figured ..." He trailed off, "it's in the baby books.

My attention was snagged. "Baby books?"

The darkness did little to conceal our vulnerabilities, blush rounding his pale cheeks. The purple and pink hues had begun to reach the skyline. "I've been reading them ... at work."

I felt every bit compelled to dig up our affection with my bare hands, I needed him and yet stupidly rejected the idea, too stubborn to ever admit it. I was doing the best I could, to work through this and there he was, two steps ahead of me and wondering why I was walking so slow. I wiped tears away from my eyes, gurgling in a very unattractive way, waves of appreciation hitting me.

He was trying, really trying.

"Chuck, that's ... thank-you," I mumbled rather lamely.

He sat up, ruffling his hair, squinting in my direction. "I missed the first half Blair," There was sadness, the way the words fell from his lips, "I'm not going anywhere now."

I smiled, albeit weakly, moving towards him without even registering my own actions. We hugged and I laid on his chest, against his beating heart. My muscles relaxed and the baby was grateful. His chest hair tickled my bare arms as he spoke into my hair. "I've been meaning to tell you ..." It was a deliberately calm admission, "Everything is just ... you are ... today was ..."

"I know," I laughed, brushing my fingers against the stubble on his chin, "It's amazing isn't it?"

"Exactly," He exhaled, as though a couple of soft words could express anything, "You're amazing."

I had never understood that about us, in a relationship so breakable and yet built upon two of the most bruised people. His hand hovered over my stomach, "May I?"

I nodded, closing my eyes a moment too long, his fingers spreading across the map of my body. The baby kicked and we both gasped, I burrowed my smile into his chest, giggling.

"Have you thought of any names yet?"

I puckered my lips in thought. "Florence," I loved the way the name sounded, "if it's a girl, which she is."

"Glad to know you're so sure," He teased. "And if it's a boy, what then?"

I hadn't given any thought to that but the name flew off my tongue as though I had, "Kennedy."

"Kennedy," Chuck rolled the name around. "It sounds like him," He commented after a long moment.

Quiet settled all around us and I fit easily into his arms as though I had never been elsewhere. Then, his lips were against my neck, the air sparked between us, grasping at each other, remembering old territory and discovering the new. He ran his hand under my nightgown, cautiously over my stomach.

"Kennedy," He said into my ear, "It's a solid name."

He pulled my underwear down, over my ankles, tossing it into the abyss of our bedroom. Somehow my logic was dismissed and all I could think of was his touch, lingering and sensitive, all over me. "Easy," I whimpered as he stripped off his pants. We were at the point of no return, drunk on each other.

I was gigantic, manoeuvring into a sea of blankets and pillows, following my heart as he bent over me from behind, his tongue on my flesh.

"Careful, careful" I repeated, as though he might have forgotten, "Slowly." Things were different, not as they had once been, and yet somehow the same. He mumbled in my ear, our own lullaby, "I love you Blair, I love you."

And we claimed each other, in the early morning, for the first time since he had left me. Only I was not alone and he was slower, more concerned than I could ever remember him being in all the thousands of times we had made love. "And I love you," I parried, his hands cupping my breasts, winning back my heart.


	5. Hard heart

A/N: Hey there. I'm slowly updating some of my stories. This is an interlude of sorts. Chuck's perspective stuck in between all of this Blairness. It's meant to shed a bit of light on what happened. It is very explicit near the end. Read and review please? I need some inspiration!

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**CHAPTER FIVE**  
_Interlude: Hard heart_

Oh what he had been then, so lost and confused. Chuck bent his head into his hands, watching Blair as she waddled about the room, her hands on her hips, trying to anchor herself to the ground. She was so round with child.

He blinked, tried to remember the night that all this had begun.

The truth was that he couldn't pin it, give it a name nor date. They had been too young, both selfish and invested in everything but each other. They both pulled apart each other, the moments, like they had meant nothing.

One day there just wasn't enough of each other to keep.

And in all, the official and quite legal separation had been difficult but none too short of a breath somewhere between relief and sorrow.

Chuck and Blair no longer remained. They were not two flowers growing from one branch. Forever for them had lasted not long enough.

He had been surprised though, the day she had stood before him, in the very same bedroom. Her hands on her hips in a defiant way. It was just after the last meeting with the lawyers. He remembered that he had been heavy with things that needed to be done, not what he could have thought.

Being with her then was like laying his love end to end, trying to see if any of it surmounted. Clearly it hadn't.

_"You need to leave," There was no question about it._

_"I know," He had said, his head in his hands the very same way, "I know."_

_"Good," She had tapped her heel on the floor, "As soon as possible would be appreciated."_

_Had the love all drained just like that? Cold as ice, small and as insignificant. The words she had uttered in his ear days before, whispers in the breeze, frozen in moments neither of them could capture._

_"I'll leave for Paris in the morning," He replied, "I have business to tend to anyway."_

_She didn't look at him, only through. "When will you collect your things?" It was all seriousness._

_He could barely feel her words, though they stabbed him._

_When he didn't answer, she softened a little bit. "Chuck, I just don't want to drag this on. We made a mistake, there was nothing much more to it. The longer we take to figure things out, the worse it'll get. Can you imagine? This would be an absolute field day for the press."_

_"Is there really no hope for us?" He felt like he was grasping at threads._

_"Our lives are in different places right now," She replied. "I love you but -"_

_"I love you too," He interrupted, "How can you so easily dismiss it?"_

_"You don't have to," She smiled. "You just need to move on right now, maybe we'll come back to each other some day."_

_"You sound like me," He laughed dryly, "But every time I said that, it wasn't true."_

_"I mean it," She pressed, "I know you do too." _

_He felt her sit beside him, rub small circles on his back. She was the only woman he loved. _

_"I know," He said, suddenly remembering himself. He stood up, her hand dropped._

_"I'll be in the guest room if you need me."_

_She nodded, her jaw tight._

_"Goodnight Chuck," She stood too, crossing her arms over her chest, "Sleep well."_

_"I'll be on a flight before you wake up," He told her. "So this is goodbye."_

_He pressed his lips to hers before she could protest. The taste of her had to be enough to last. The scent of wafting perfume, her long legs as she had once strutted about the penthouse in nothing._

_The things he could keep close to his heart. Small but meaningful._

_He turned before she could face him completely, although her body seemed to sigh when they broke apart. "Goodbye," He thought he heard her whisper, but he was too far down the hall to trust it._

"I think the baby's room needs to be painted again," She tossed the words at him as she moved from one end of the room to the other. Clothes in every corner.

"Hm?" He lifted his head, listened.

She stopped in front of him, hardly dressed. "I _said_, the babies name needs to be painted again. I woke up this morning and realized that I detest the color."

He nodded. "Alright. I'll hire someone today."

"I don't want you to hire anybody," She rolled her eyes, as though he was completely missing the point.

"What then?" He asked.

"Paint it yourself. Nate and Erick will be then happy to help you."

"Paint?" He echoed, "... myself?"

"Is it so hard to believe? _Honestly Chuck,_ people do it all the time ... things for themselves, it's quite amazing actually."

"You're teasing me," He guessed.

"Maybe I am," She grinned. "I have a right to it anyway. That is of course if you consider that this seven or so extra pounds in my front section is partially yours." She gestured towards her stomach. "I am rotund."

"You," He stood up, closing the distance between them. "Are too gorgeous for words."

She giggled under his lips as he pressed a trail of kisses down her neck. "Shut up."

"I will not," He smirked.

"You should," She warned lightly, "Before I clobber you with my thunder thighs."

"I welcome any opportunity," He nuzzled her ear, "To feel you."

She grabbed his hand as it moved across her stomach, holding him there.

"How are you feeling today?"

Her breath hitched as one hand dipped below her underwear, towards her hot center.

"Fine," She leaned back, rolling on the balls of her feet.

He teased her lips with his fingers, sliding over the throbbing wetness.

She swallowed hard. He loved everything about her. She was rigged under his touch.

_Everything._

"Just fine?" He nibbled at her earlobe, "Or better?"

"If you're trying to distract me," She whispered, "It's definitely not working."

"Isn't it?" He moved in slow firm circles, a dancing touch.

"No," She repeated firmly, "It really isn't Chuck."

He moved his hand carefully up the crest of her stomach, towards her breasts. He slipped a hand under the wire frame, cupping one in his fingers.

"Now?" He asked, rather innocently.

Her breathing grew heavier.

"Not quite," She managed, a low moan.

His movements slowed, enough that he could drag her from the fog of sense. Back to where he was, in the bedroom where they both stood.

"What ... are ... you ... doing?"

He shrugged. "Nothing."

She turned, not as close as she had been to him before. "It's never a good idea to upset a pregnant woman," She warned, "Especially one whose eight months pregnant."

"Hm," He responded, nonchalant. "I've never heard that."

She scoffed, rolled her eyes.

And then somehow, they were against the glass wall, staring out at New York city as it bustled below them. The world on it's own axis.

Chuck was fumbling with his zipper, cursing clumsy morning hands.

"Hurry up," She groaned, "I need you."

Desperation.

Finally, he thrust into her in one solid movement. Deep enough that he instinctively forgot where he stopped and she began.

She yelled out, the muffled cries.

"I always miss you," He gasped, gritting his teeth. Steady movements now.

"What?" She asked, voice thick with pleasure.

He halted, stopped inside of her, slowly drawing a hand to the face that he could not see.

The woman he knew so well.

His fingers toyed with her glossy lips, the tip of her nose, the curve of her cheeks.

All his. And she let him lay stake in every bone in her body as if it were the most natural of occurrences.

Blair moved her hips, needing the rhythm as much as he.

"I know," She replied. His hand, fingers spread, on her shoulder, breath in her ear.

"You still love me."

"I never stopped," She said, with an angst.

He was gruff. She moaned, put more weight into the arms that held her up. She traced up his forearm, feeling the sinewy veins. The physical map of her husband. The man she loved.

Time crawled, blurred before them. The universe suspended.

He felt her tighten around him and it was then that he let go, emptied inside of her with a low feral grunt. She grew limp against him, sweaty and exhausted.

He pulled the hair away from her back, kissed the corners of her shoulders.

After some time, she turned and straightened her spine, smiling.

"It's all these hormones," She said in explanation. "I barely feel capable of functioning these days. It's like all I want to do."

She blushed.

"We could if you wanted."

And something inside of him lit fire, drawing her into his arms. This was the only place he could ever be. The only woman he could ever love and the only man he would ever be, so simply put. It spanned from one end of the room to the other and he was worthy of every second.


	6. Twist my arm

A/N: Woah! TWO UPDATES IN ONE DAY. CRAZY. Even though I hate everything that went on with Chuck in S3 finale, at least I'm happy that I waited long enough. Why? Because if I had posted this a few months ago (and I've always planned to have it this way) I'm sure a few of you would have SPAMMED me like crazy, upset that I could even imagine him doing something like this. Well. Someone might still. But anyway.

Thanks so much to everyone who is reading this and reviewing. Please continue to do so! I want to hear all your lovely feedback. I will also be replying to reviews asap. Probably right after I post this. So if you're one of those people that reviews every chapter, do it! That just means double the messages exclaiming your amazingness and who doesn't love that? Alright, enough jibber jabber.

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"You were ahead by a century and disappointing you is getting me down."  
- The tragically hip.

**CHAPTER SIX**  
_ Twist my arm_

I bit into the sandwich, chewed and swallowed, waited a few seconds.

The taste seemed to sit well, better than I thought, considering.

Serena quirked an eyebrow, "Not gonna vomit?"

I shook my head, "Right now it's heaven, but _deep down_, I cringe at how good it tastes."

Steak and blue cheese on rye had always me ill before pregnancy. Now, it was all I could think about, the way the flavours just melted on my tongue, lighter than air.

The baby craved it as much as I did and because of that, I didn't even care that I was sitting on steps in Brooklyn, eating like I'd been starving myself. Eventually, I brushed the pile of crumbs off my stomach, pushed my swollen ankles out from under me, stretched.

"So," Serena leaned forward, I'm all questions B, and no answers."

"Yes?" I tried to play coy.

"Chuck," She stated, as though the syllables were enough to dredge up an entire world. I detested that it was true.

I groaned. "Do we _have_ to talk about it?"

"Hell yes," She deadpanned.

"Fine," I begrudged. "There isn't even anything to say."

"Oh? You've been sleeping with him …"

"Well," I tilted my head, "It depends on how you look at it really."

"Are you actually going to be this stubborn?"

"Maybe," I pouted.

"How are we looking at it then?"

"We aren't exactly doing that," I refrained. "He's the father of my baby, I'm the size of a ship and hormonal and he's my husband." I pegged my thoughts off like targets.

She rolled her eyes at me, taking a long sip of coffee, probably wishing it were scotch.

"Okay, so you're not living in sin," She chided, "Got it."

"What is –"

"It's unhealthy Blair but you already know that and despite _everything_, you're doing it anyway, which worries me even more."

"I'm fine S," I said, not entirely believing myself either. It was so easy to look past my lies. I hated that my words weren't smooth like a pond, frozen.

She relented, pulling a hand through her hair. "Just know that this is going to end in one big fat _I told you so._"

"Noted," I glowered, letting the last bit of my lunch digest.

I had always tried to keep things separate. The rain water that rolled off my shoulders, but this time it stuck to my flesh, absorbed by my bones.

We had already fallen apart once. A broken empire of expensive promises neither of us kept. And then, there was this pregnancy, the baby that was quickly approaching. She was something about the two of us that had just managed to work, to make sense in every possible way.

By the time I got back to the penthouse, the stars were jars of light hovering in a sea of dark blue.

I locked the door, kicked my heels off and sat down on the couch in a fog of thought. It only took him a minute to find me.

I searched his eyes, felt his hand trace my palm. We were only the easy way we had fallen to bits with no foundation.

"Hi," Chuck breathed, kneeling in front of me.

"Hi," I smiled, but it was too faint of an imprint.

I took a deep breath, tried to feel the air move through me.

The baby kicked and Chuck, feeling it with the pad of his finger, rested his ear on the spot, beaming.

I swallowed.

"Did you love her?" I asked; a glass house next to a mountain of rocks.

He looked up at me, so serious.

"What?"

"_Did you love her_?" I was more certain of myself.

He leaned back, wavering.

I could barely sit there; let him hold onto me like that. I pushed his hand away after a second, prepared to walk away.

"Blair …"He rubbed at his eyebrows dropping the hand to his jaw. "No, I didn't."

"Did she know about me?"

He nodded and stood up, sat down across from me. We weren't at the same level, although I could read his face easier now.

"Yes," He looked about to grit his teeth, plead with me. I turned my chin up, stood my ground. "I told her about you."

"What did you say?" I imagined that he had taken his ring off when he landed in Paris. I had probably been some ghost of his past.

"I told her that we weren't together," He edged carefully along the line of truth, "But that I still loved you very much. You were, for all intents and purposes, still my_ wife_."

"But you were with her," I bit.

He sighed, heavily, as though it was painful.

"We had legally separated. I was at the bottom of too many bottles. I needed someone to drag me out of it."

"You knew that you'd be coming home though, we agreed." I pressed the memory at him in defence. "We both said that we'd see where things were when you got back."

"Three and a half months was a long time to be wondering if you still loved me or not," He said plainly. "You have to understand."

I felt the corners of my eyes begin to tear. I sat there, clutching my belly, staring him down as though one more word could topple everything.

"But I don't Chuck, not this time."

I pushed myself out of the sofa that had almost swallowed me. I went to storm past him, to disappear dramatically and with every last bit of my dignity in place. I was too slow.

He grabbed my elbow. "We're together now, isn't that what matters?"

"Soon, we won't be alone." I took his hand, placed it on my stomach where the baby stretched in her sleep.

"Do you really want our child born into a marriage like this?" I said. I wouldn't let us be my parents. The love drained.

There was still so much work to be done. Not enough of my heart left to give.


	7. Close up

A/N: Hey you guys. You are wonderful and amazing. Keep it up! Please? Anyway this is possibly the longest chapter I've written for this particular story (horray!) I am putting a poll up on my profile to do with this too, so go there and do the poll if you have time :) Oh and happy thanksgiving to all you fellow Canadians! Onwards to the chapter.

**CHAPTER SEVEN  
**_Close Up_

I know that you're trouble but  
Is that your real name and why are you doing this?  
Okay, no more questions, no worries.  
So dive in, the water's great.  
Listen, I'm starting to speak like you.  
I love you,  
I hate you,  
If you think that I'll let you go,  
You're out of your mind.  
I'm no talker.  
- frou frou

For the first time in my life, I had no particular destination. Somewhere along the line I'd lost track of my steps, forgotten to put down bread crumbs, something to keep me.

There were things I wanted to say, I just didn't know how to phrase them.

Now I was in uncharted territory, my chin to the floor, my heart lost in itself.

I leaned against the mirrors and sighed as the elevator drew itself upwards.

I found myself alone in the foyer, trying in earnest to forget about leaving. My steps were small, uncertain and eventually I made it to the living room.

"Mrs Blair," Dorota said as she eased me into a chair, "You are ripe like peach."

"A peach," I implored, "Sounds accurate."

"It is old saying," Dorota nodded, like it explained something.

I felt heavy as I sat in my mother's penthouse. The cold front seemed to move inward. I shivered.

Eleanor and I hadn't spoken since the marriage. The quick phone calls afterward were short, never much but a skim across the surface_. I hope you're alright. _

As always, we had hung up on opposite sides of the city and my arms were outstretched only far enough to measure the worldly lengths between us.

But I hadn't come to see her.

I kicked off my heels and exhaled.

Dorota sat opposite me, her expression blank but somehow comforting. I saw the world in her eyes, my best friend.

"Do you think I made the wrong choice?" I asked suddenly, bending my back to shift the baby. She'd been pressing against my ribcage all morning.

"What choices are you asking?" She blinked at me.

"Marrying Chuck …" I gestured with my hands, the broken way we'd come together, all the ways in which it felt like we'd fallen apart since.

"Blair," She edged, "You think that, yes?"

I shook my head. "No, I don't know – _maybe_."

Dorota sighed heavily, glanced sidelong at me, thinking. It reminded me of the ways when she would leave the room for a moment and come back to an utter mess. My mischievous smile as she picked me up, tried to think of how to punish me.

Only I wasn't a child anymore, I couldn't seek refuge in anyone but myself.

"You made no mistake," She said finally. "Mr Chuck has always been good man."

"But after everything," I prompted, "I don't know if we can still ..."

"Because of woman?" She asked.

My breath hitched, "Yes."

She stood up, moved closer to me, took my hand between her own.

"You can't hold onto past," She stated, "It does no good. You must learn to forgive, move on. For yourself. Not for baby, not for husband. Not for what others say, for what you feel only. If you still want to leave then you leave but never forget that you loved."

I stirred, clenched her fingers in my own.

"Marriages do not always move past," She continued, "Only sometimes. That is reality."

She patted my hand.

I smiled weakly but it was water, easily washed away.

"How will I know?" I asked.

"You just will," She assured me with a lopsided grin.

But I was never sure of much anymore. I had left everything alone, let it grow with time into something I didn't recognize. The love that I felt and what I thought I needed were so separate, I didn't Know that I could expect anything but what I had.

A jumble of leads and no destination.

**XOXOXO**

"Serena called while you were out," Chuck looked up.

I nodded, shifting.

"She wanted me -"

I blinked, swallowed a piece of chicken, "I know."

"_Okay_," He said, "_You know_."

We ate dinner in silence, our breath echoing off the walls.

"You can't punish me like this forever," He broke first, eyed me over the expanse of table between us.

I reminded myself too much of my mother then. The way I straightened out, glowered back.

"I'm not _punishing_ you," It didn't slip off my tongue easily.

"What are you doing then?" He was asking everything of me. What more could I give him?

"Figuring things out I guess."

"Ask me anything," He pleaded, "I'll tell you every last detail if it's what you need."

Fury bit at my skin, turned my words lead. "I don't know what I need, if I need anything from _you_."

That was it. We were always _Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck. _It was this melody of scheming and lust that served to keep us together and push us backwards. I was struggling to keep my head above water, to find enough words to describe who I wanted to be, not who I had been.

He was deaf to it all but the way we fit together.

The scars on his back from my nails, the whispers of a future together back when we were stupid, filled with childish notions.

He was for anything that would make this work, even if it didn't want to. I was standing back and looking at the whole picture, noting the colors and the placement of his heart on the canvas, if all his efforts since had been in the right place. If I could still touch the painting and feel him.

"Fine," He stood up, cleared his plate and I was left with myself and the baby.

And I knew I didn't know him like I used to. He was a stranger in different ways.

When I was ready to look for him, I stood up, plugged in my ipod, rested the headphones across my belly, an earphone on each side. The soothing sounds of Mozart. I'd been doing it nightly since the very first month, finding little ways to make sure my baby knew music the way it had first sounded.

If only I could remember how my relationship with Chuck had first come to be, how we had settled the dust. I couldn't draw anything up.

I found him in the nursery, skimming his hands along the crib that Cyrus had personally delivered last week. The final touches on the room had been laid a few days ago.

"If you'd just stop being so childish Blair," He didn't look at me, "then we could figure this out."

I stepped back, hung on the edge of the conversation. "I'm being childish?"

"Yes," He saw me then, his eyes bright. "You're disagreeable."

"We separated and you lived with someone else for two months!"

"You weren't going to come back to me," He said it with conviction, "How else was I supposed to forget that?"

"I told you that I'd talk to you about it when you got home, we would see how things stood."

"It was a lie," He replied. "You just didn't want to deal with divorcing me behind my back."

"Things changed," I faltered, "You weren't my first priority anymore."

He walked away from me, towards the bay window. The clouds threatened rain.

He crossed his hands behind his back. "You didn't even tell me," He whispered.

"I didn't ..." I swallowed hard.

Why hadn't I told him? I could barely tell myself. We were just lost and confused and then everything became more than it was, somehow different. I didn't want him around, complicating it with his presence, not then. I needed to be alone, to grow with our child the way I needed. I had wanted to continue with school, my friends, the life I had kept.

He was something else. Oil to water. We were one person and yet, not at all.

"Why? You never told me anything."

"You never asked me anything," I was holding it together, taping up the broken pieces.

"_Maybe_ I didn't know what to say," He turned to me, watched my expressions as they changed.

"_Maybe_," I prompted, "We weren't ready to be married to each other."

There was silence. Neither of us said anything. The quiet flipped itself upward, remained solid.

"I don't know about you, but I was as ready as ever to marry you."

"We were only twenty Chuck, you say that but I don't think you get it."

"What's not to get?" He made an airy gesture with his hands. "You have all of _this_, whether you want it or not." He motioned to his heart, kept his hand there. "You're the only woman who knows me."

"I don't know that I know you anymore," I offered.

"If you're going to divorce me then do it soon. All of this is reminding me too much of my father."

He ran a hand through his hair, took a step towards me.

"You're not your father Chuck."

"She left him too because she couldn't handle being his wife anymore. Isn't that exactly this?" He looked crumpled.

I shook my head. "No."

"Tell me."

"We separated because I couldn't find myself in all of this. All you've ever given me are bits and pieces, a little bit here and there, enough to keep me looking for you, wanting you to be with me. When I found out I was pregnant, when I knew things between us weren't so well, I needed time to be with myself."

I watched him as I talked. "And then Serena called me one day and said that Carter Baizen had seen you with some model in Paris, that you'd moved in together. I was three months pregnant with _your _child, I was married to _you_. I hadn't spoken to you in months and then I hear that and I'm supposed to just accept it? So tell me,_ the great Bass_, what the hell else do you want from me?"

I tried to keep my voice even, but the edges were sharp. He took another step forward, I stumbled back. The air was electric.

"Her name was Sophie," He was telling me things I didn't want to hear. "I didn't love her. I kissed her a couple times, in a drunken stupor at a couple of parties. She invited me back to her house and I liked it better than being alone in my hotel room. It kept me busy, kept me from thinking about _you_."

His hand was cutting the distance between us. I sidestepped it.

"You still kissed her, lived with her."

"But I couldn't forget about you," He added, "No matter how hard I tried."

"I, I can't be this with you. I can't be ... _Chuck and Blair _anymore."

"Then don't," He shrugged, "Just be you."

"I don't know the part of me that I am with you," I sighed. "She's a stranger too."

"Then forget about it, it wasn't important."

"I hate you," I glared at him.

He smiled, the tension somehow relieved. He placed a hand on the curve of my belly. "There's a certain repetitiveness to scheming all the time."

"Isn't there?" I leaned into him a little bit. Chopin floated up from the headphones between us.

"Stop trying to push me away, okay?"

"You used to do all the pushing away," I said.

"And you would always push me back," He laughed, "You still do."

I let him kiss me as natural as it could be. And it felt like I was remembering a piece of him that I'd forgotten, the boy I'd fallen in love with years earlier. I only knew that I couldn't be the same person, but I'd already told him that and then his hands were moving and I was struggling to compose myself, to think any thought beyond the taste of him.


	8. Samson

A/N: Geez. It took forever to finally get all of this chapter down! Thank you to everyone that reviewed last time. You guys are uber awesome and super cool, please keep it up? I'd love as many reviews as you've got, feedback is always a great thing. I don't know how much longer I'm going to keep this story going, it may even be complete by the next chapter, I'll have to see. Anyway, onto reading and leave me your thoughts if you have time!

**CHAPTER EIGHT:**  
_Samson_

I loved you first  
I loved you first.  
_ - Regina Spektor _

The days melted together, one after another after another. We fell into enough of a routine, words exchanged but barely heard. I didn't know how to be with him I discovered, nor did I know how to be _without_ him really. I was always on the edges of his love, of needing myself more than anything else.

It was four in the morning and I rested my head on the backboard. I couldn't sleep and neither could the baby. I suspected it wouldn't be long now, until could hold her in my arms. Squares of light danced across the hardwood floor, towards me and away.

I watched Chuck, listless in his dreams, one arm thrown over his shoulder and the other wrapped around his waist. He groaned, tossed and turned. Eventually I picked up a book, read for the sake of filling my mind with something other than silence.

I was heavy with exhaustion, the foreign idea of sleep, it had fallen through my fingers like water and the hours stretched in front of me, plain and clear. I started to plan breakfast, write down chores, errands that needed to be finished.

Sometimes I felt like I was merely stringing along moments, pulling them together with a thread. I imagined breathing into each something simple, enough of whatever I needed. But I wanted nothing more than to sit there, to contemplate sitting there with the wallpaper and the mattress and my sleeping husband who was before me like a language I couldn't understand. Someone I knew but couldn't remember, dancing on the edges of my memory.

I sighed, turned to watch the sunrise and fell asleep.

It was the smallest push, the tiniest kick of pain but it trickled down my legs and through my entire body. I woke with a start, unfurled my body, grateful for the handful of hours that I'd gathered some sleep in.

The pain seemed to follow itself, run in a loop, growing larger and more jagged, each one harder than the last. Quickly, I grazed my stomach, rested it there and waited.

Waited for something to tell me that I wasn't waiting anymore, but it couldn't be what it felt like.

My due date was two weeks away.

As this dawned on me, I fumbled upwards and into the closet. My hands were shaking as I looked for my delivery bag and then I was trying to change, unbutton the pearls that knotted up my nightgown and refused to be undone.

Chuck approached me as I was crunched and pulling a dress over my sweaty shoulders, collecting me as if I were in pieces.

I turned to him, serious. "I think I'm having contractions ..."

It was then that he woke up. "What?" He mumbled, clutching me between his arms.

"You need to get me to the hospital," I said.

"Not for another two weeks ..." He rubbed his jaw.

"I know," The words were broken, "But Doctor Yelli said that it could be any day now."

_I remembered our last visit, the final ultrasound. Everything had went well. I was at a healthy weight, the baby was strong. But something had been troubling Chuck as we left the office, slid into the backseat of the limo._

_"What?" I had finally said, aggravated that I couldn't read his mind._

_"Nothing," He had brushed it off, wrapped an arm around my shoulder._

_I had pushed him away. "No," I'd prompted, "Tell me what you're thinking."_

_He ran his hand down my cheek. "If I forget to thank you for all of this, thank you." _

_"For what?" I sighed into his mouth, as we drew away from each other, the kiss lingering._

_"Loving me anyway, in spite of everything." He looked me over, watched for my reaction. I had held it close to my heart, like a secret._

He moved with a certainty, pulling on a sweater and a pair of jeans. Casual but not understated. He caught me in his arms after I'd locked the door, the bag slung over his shoulder and I let the moment unfold, crumpling against him and breathing in his scent, the scratchy wool of his sweater. He held me like I might disappear.

A wave of pain hit me halfway down the hall. I stopped, inhaled and grabbed at the wall. He rushed towards me, bent down.

"Chuck?" I whimpered.

Without a word he hoisted me into his arms, carried me to the elevator, through the lobby and into the waiting town car. I pressed myself up against the car door, the cool glass.

The brilliant Autumn was bright against grey clouds, leaves of all colors flush against the cement as we pulled away from the curb. I tried not to think of anything, even Chuck as he watched me, waited.

**XOXOXO**

I was never a huge fan of hospitals.

The private room was so clean, there was a living room, bathroom and a bed. The lights were bright, everything was neutral and there I was, a swirl of color amongst white.

My eyes hurt. I straightened out folded my arms across my chest and tried to feel calm, as though it were close and touchable, something I could hold and keep.

But it wasn't.

I got up and moved towards the bay window, paced. I stared at the skyscrapers as they poached the morning clouds, watched people below us come and go. The bustle of the city.

The contractions were subtle at first, distant bells of sound in fog but they grew like weeds, thicker and stronger as time passed. Each one was a story, it had a beginning, middle and end, followed by a brief interlude, long enough for me to gather my wits before the audience demanded an encore.

Somewhere behind me I could hear Chuck putting away clothes. He pulled out the iPod, set up the sound system and put on my playlist. Beirut filled the air, sticky words and long melodies that reminded me of Europe.

I was a tiger as I held my belly, wanting nothing more than to be left with myself in the thicket of the pain. Occasionally I let him touch me, his hand on my lower back but mostly I wanted to stay with myself near the window overlooking the city.

The nurses came in and checked me a few times, encouraged me. I wanted to bite them, to throw something at them. Their smiles were as sweet as honey and pie.

At times I clung to Chuck, too weak to move away and too stubborn to sit down. I got on my hands and knees, rocked back and forth, it made me feel better somehow.

I didn't realize I was crying until he reached for a tear as it slid down my cheek, wiping it away with the pad of his thumb.

"I can't do this," I yelled. I was being torn apart, limb from limb.

"Yes, yes you can Blair. You can do this," Chuck replied steadily.

I gasped, pulled at his shirt and he kept me there, held me by the shoulders as though I might slip through his grasp.

I tried to sooth the baby with my thoughts._ It's okay, you're not hurting me_. And the pain slowed for a time, ebbed at itself.

I was sitting cross legged, my head bent into Chuck's shoulder blade.

"Tell me something," I asked, "Anything." My words were dry, crackling.

"I love you - I love you," He breathed, moved as close to me as he could get. It was repeated as though I could easily forget.

I smiled weakly, he wasn't expecting it.

People came and went. My mother, Serena, Nate - even daddy. They were a breeze passing through, to wait in the lobby.

I felt like throwing up but I didn't.

He fed me ice chips, held my hand. The trouble of being connected but so distant was not lost in his eyes. He was helpless.

It became it's own rhythm. For each contraction, I clutched him and when it ended, I went limp.

He pressed his hand through the strained buttons on my shirt. Our baby was a hard ball between us. He spread his fingers across my skin, everything that mattered.

"Why are we doing this again?" I said.

He smirked, pulled a hand through his hair. The contractions were close together now, jagged against my senses. His lips set against my ear.

"Supposedly, they give you a baby at the end of this and let you keep it."

I nodded, swallowed hard. "Right, right."

A nurse came in, helped me onto the bed, checked me and wrote a few things down.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, my voice foreign to my own ears.

"Everything is going great Blair," She reassures, her cool hand on my hot skin, "You're doing amazingly."

I didn't know what time it was but I knew that it had been hours. The day had probably come and gone while I was there. Just like the steadiness of the pain, rolling over me. I breathed, sometimes screamed. It felt good to relieve some of the tension in another way.

I felt the baby move downward, through me. "I need to push," I said, "I just need to." And with everything in me, I started.

"I love you honey," Chuck told me as the nurse summoned the doctor, "You're so strong."

"Shut the fuck up!" I said furiously.

He shook it off, continued encouraging me with words that fell between us, practically silent. I was too determined then to meet my child, to hold her in my arms. It had been such a long time to know someone and yet not.

Doctor Yelli smiled at me through his mask, the little blue cap and the baby kept moving down and I kept pushing.

I was hot and tired but my body knew what to do - even if I didn't. After a few minutes, Doctor Yelli smiled at us.

"The baby is crowning, one more push now."

I looked at Chuck briefly, but my attention was not to be strayed.

The last of my energy rounded up, pressed into action and then the baby was expelled from me in one motion and I was empty.

"Congratulations parents," The doctor announced, "He's beautiful."

And I was too exhausted and elated to be surprised as he cried out and I realized that I've never heard anything sweeter. Someone placed him on my stomach and everyone left the room.

I scooped him up gently as though he was glass. He mewed, his blind eyes searching for me and I set his body of silk on my chest, right on top of my heartbeat.

Chuck was bright, illuminating within himself as he held me. We were alone with this child, _our _child.

We were his_ parents._

I fell in love, madly with this beautiful creature. My heart was no longer inside of my chest, held onto by the tiny little fingers that clutched his daddy's hand, letting us know that he was here, that we were finally meeting after all this time. His tiny body and jet black hair.

"Hi," I said, softer than flowers as I ran my hand over his tiny arm. "It's nice to finally meet you, I'm your mommy."

He blinked at us, turned further into my skin. Some time ago, Chuck took off his shirt and climbed into the bed with me, curved himself around my body and we simply stayed like that, introducing ourselves to the little human being, catching each others eye briefly.

Eventually the doctor and the nurses returned and when we were good and ready, Chuck cut the umbilical cord and our son was weighed and completely cleaned off. seven pounds and two ounces of baby Bass.

**Later:**

The afternoon light was butter against the blinds as I finished feeding Samson Oliver Bass. He yawned, reached to grab the air and fell asleep in my arms. Chuck sat across from us, taking pictures. Every few seconds there was a buzz and a click.

We were new to each other, to this role that seemed fitted to us.

Samson was not the girl I thought he was but he is more than I could ever have wanted. I was too happy to form words, to say most anything and have it fill a fraction of my heart the way he simply fit there with us.

Chuck puts down the camera, passes the overflowing windowsill of flower and balloons, teddy bears. He kissed the top of my forehead and sat down. I passed Samson to him and Chuck took him slowly, he was more gentle than I could ever remember seeing a man with a baby, the whole world reflected in his eyes each time his son was in his arms.

"I've never loved anyone more than I love you," He whispered, "My _son_."

Something about it made me want to cry and tears slipped out of my eyes.

He grabbed my hand, squeezed it as we hovered over the sleeping baby, all perfection and amazement at the little being we created.

"We made him," I gasped in awe, "And he's perfect."

The few hours between his birth and then seemed not long enough for the reality to set in. Although I never thought it would.

Chuck nodded in agreement, "So are you."

* * *

A/N: Gasp!


	9. What I say

A/N: Okay. You guys are rad. Just sayin'. Here's a little chapter ... because I wanted to write something for TBD but right now it's difficult to get anything for that story to stay in one place. Enjoy it! And please keep reviewing if you have time. Each one is amazing and I can't believe I have such great readers (:

* * *

Look at the stars  
Look at how they shine for you  
- Coldplay

**CHAPTER NINE:  
**_What I say_

Flowers in bloom during the heated months of summer had a beauty about them that was well expected just as snow in December.

It was the brilliant way that only certain flowers bloomed during the cold afternoons of long winter nights, it seemed to remind Chuck of Blair. She was pale and strong, a well of water that served always to wet his lips and circle his heart with love.

How could he ever tell her? The expression inside of him was like an empty paper she had filled, there were too many places he could start and no place to unravel it all.

Samson was little and precious and every bit his wife. The love consumed him, swallowed him quickly as though he had never known anything but this little creature. It kept him drunk on the beauty of his newborn son, in the quiet hours when they would both rise, sleep deprived and a little raw around the edges just to watch him sleep, the rise and fall of his chest.

All his life he had been running from exactly what he had now and he couldn't remember why. It was like asking a child to remember the texture of sand after it's fallen through his hands, the only reply would be the very name of the subject.

When there was nothing else to know.

He never knew he was capable of loving two people as much as he did. Bart had always left him with the hollow idea of hatred and revenge that struck against everything in his fathers life and pushed against Chuck like it was the truth of everything.

And then he met her and the butterflies had been released from their gilded cage, the pesky wings pattering up his stomach every time she was in a room, drawn toward her. He had loved her and learned to know nothing else.

From all of that had come Samson. This little baby that had his eyes and Blair's lips, her pale skin and his dark brown hair. Just when he had foolishly thought his heart couldn't grow anymore, Samson snuggled his way inside every faction of Chuck's being. It had changed him in a way he hadn't known he could change.

The two of them sat there, each on one side of the wicker bassinet, staring down at their baby.

"It's too silent," She whispered. "I think I've forgotten what it sounds like."

Chuck nodded, agreeing with her as he rubbed his knuckle up her bare shoulder.

"We should probably get some errands done," He said gently.

"I know," She sighed. "I'm just going to stare at him a little longer."

"There's nothing more I want to do," He replied. "But I also don't want to have to deal with the rest of the house when weeds start sprouting up through the floorboards."

"It's only been a few weeks," Blair pouted.

"A month..." He teased.

"You're right..." She kissed Samson on the head, brushed her fingers to his baby blanket and seemed to pry herself away with only the greatest of difficulty. She stood up, stretched her fingers, walked into the closet and was gone for the moment.

Chuck sat there, his heart in the tiny hands of his son and rested his cheek on the edge of the bassinet.

He didn't notice Blair until she cleared her throat, approaching him like a tiger ready to devour her prey.

"What happened to getting down to business, Mr. Bass?" She asked. He looked at her, his eyes clouded over by lust. She was so beautiful.

"I got distracted.." He glanced sidelong at the door.

She laughed lightly, a melody that ran through him.

"I can't get enough of him either," She agreed.

"He's ours," Chuck whispered. It still didn't feel quite real. _He was theirs._

"He is." She sat on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck, "Just like I am yours and you are mine."

**XOXOXO**

She had waited for him, married him and gave birth to his son.

If nothing more had come of them together, at least there would have been Samson, the one beacon of light through everything. The little person that had completed him, that had fallen into their arms as easily as if he'd been there all along, a canvas merely waiting to be painted.

And Blair ... how could he ever be anything to her that she needed? Every part of him worked toward being the man she deserved.

There had been a time when he hadn't deserved a scrap of her attention, a split second of her time.

Now they were tangled up in each other and he didn't know where he ended and she began. He never wanted to know the difference.

"Do you know how much I love you?" He skimmed her thigh. They were sitting on the couch, candles lit and the lights dim as the cloak of night set upon the city.

The baby monitor was on the table.

"Tell me," She indulged.

He smirked. "More than anything I've ever known."

"Anything?" She quirked an eyebrow.

More than that.

"You and Samson are everything," He said. "I'm trying to be what that you need, I want you to know that."

She sat up, looked him in the eye. "What makes you think that you're anything less?" She stroked his cheek.

"Things between us have been ..."

"Broken," She fished the word from her lips.

He nodded, leaned back. "Yeah, how did we get that way?"

There was a breath of silence. "How does a vase break? Is it the cold weather or pure neglect?"

He let that settle itself between them.

"Perhaps both," He answered solemnly.

"Does it matter?" She was watching him, marking his thoughts by his expressions.

"It matters because I don't want to feel like I'll never make it up to you," He sighed in exasperation at his own mistakes.

"Do you promise to try?"

"I'd promise to eat dirt if you asked," He replied.

"I don't know about dirt but I could go for a back massage..."

He smirked, "Ask and you shall receive."

There, under the pale glow of the sunset, he massaged Blair's shoulders, the expanse of her body that he knew so well beneath his hands. The woman he loved, his wife and mother to his son, the one who held him in her hands and he wondered which of the two had really broken the vase.


	10. Howl

A/N: Short but sweet. It isn't in first person this time but there's a reason for that. I'll probably post TBD sometime next week. Big thanks to all my readers, leave a review if you can.

* * *

Well you told me about nowhere,  
it sounds like some place I'd like to go.  
- Modest Mouse

**CHAPTER TEN:  
**_Howl _

_She was running, pulling up roots, burying her own head in the sand._

_Down._

_Down._

Until she didn't know where she was or how she'd gotten there. Her body ached, her head pounded and she had begun to cry for no reason other than the taste of the salt in her tears. She didn't know how to feel about anything anymore.

Blair woke with a little start, blinking her tired eyes against the darkness of the bedroom.

It was just a dream, she realized, but all the feelings were there and solid enough that she could pull the wires apart. She rubbed at her nose, pulled her hair back and clumsily struck out of bed, her feet on the cold floor.

By the time she scooped Sam into her arms, his crying had all but stopped. He had wanted nothing more than to be held, pressed up against another warm body. He was growing too fast, she lamented, already heavier than he had been a handful of days before.

"Oh Sammy," She whispered, kissing his cherub cheek.

Don't ever stop being my baby, she thought.

He gurgled, his head leaned against her shoulder. She smiled and danced back and forth, luring him towards sleep. There was a band of sweat on her neck, she was made of water, ready to fall apart at any moment and rush towards the river.

After a while, he slumped a little further into her, his breathing heavier. She kept him in her arms for a while, until her own anxiety had melted and carefully placed him back in his crib. It was hard even just to walk away from him at night, to feel as if she'd ever be able to protect him enough.

She carefully peeled the covers back, Chuck's body a lump of cold air. She rolled over, clutching her pillow.

"Sorry darling," Chuck mumbled, "I should have gotten up."

"It's alright," She said, "I handled it."

"Was he hungry?" He asked, a glance towards the bedside clock. 5:24 am.

"No," She pulled her night gown over her knees, closed her eyes. "He just wanted to be held."

"Oh," She could feel his eyes on her.

He brushed her shoulder with his fingers, the smallest touch. She held her breath, waiting for it to end.

"Get some sleep," She said.

He nodded, still dancing on the edges of his thoughts and turned away from her.

_She was chasing the sun, trying to feel the warmth. Holding herself together when all she wanted was to be held._

_Close but so far._


End file.
